


Known

by spiced_1990



Category: Spice Girls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiced_1990/pseuds/spiced_1990
Summary: She wants to talk about it afterwards, but you’ve always preferred to communicate with your hands and lips.
Relationships: Melanie Brown/Geri Halliwell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Known

**Author's Note:**

> for maddy xoxo

She wants to talk about it afterwards, but you’ve always preferred to communicate with your hands and lips. Geri’s body isn’t an unknown (she likes to strut around naked sometimes, though she shies away when you label her an exhibitionist) but not like this, not still trembling and sweaty in the aftermath of intimacy. 

Her eyes are closed and you watch the way her chest rises and falls as she inhales and exhales, gently caress the soft underside of her breasts and down to her toned stomach. It’s fascinating learning what your partners respond to and that’s heightened with Geri, maybe because you already know her so well in every other way. You shouldn’t have been surprised at anything, but the moment she’d taken your hand in her own, pushed it beneath her underwear, a bolt of expectation had gone through you. “Fuck me,” she’d said moments later, her fingers grabbing eagerly at your arse. You love being desired.

Over the past few months, she’s done everything with you and it’s safe to say that you’ve never had a friend like her. The madness, the risks, the unmatched adrenaline rush of doing the forbidden. And now this. The most forbidden, maybe. 

“I can hear you thinking,” you tell her, the closest to an invitation as you’re willing to offer. She reaches for you as you shift towards the edge of the mattress, hums with disapproval when you sit up. “Just gonna take a leak and then I’ll be back, okay.”

You’ve never quite figured out how you feel about the afters, the comedown after the high of sex - whether you want to immediately reclaim your own space or cuddle in so close that nothing can separate the two of you until daybreak. 

In the end, there’s no choice to be made. You’ve been bunking with Geri for weeks now, off and on. Her bed is smaller but _she’s_ in it, and that makes the decision easier. And so you stay, her small body curled around yours, one of her hands tight around your waist to keep you in place, because she’s bossy and demanding even in slumber.

* * *

The curtains in Geri’s room aren’t able to keep the sun from interrupting your sleep, and so you wake up (too early - always too early) to find her sitting beside you, her back against the thin bedroom wall. A sheet is pulled up but not high enough to cover her tits, and part of you is tickled by her nod to modesty and her complete inability to actually achieve it. 

“Why are you even awake?” you croak, squinting blearily at her. “We drank our bodies’ weight in god knows what last night, you nutter.” Geri startles at your voice and yanks the sheet higher. “Bit late for that…”

She flushes and it’s one of your favourite things about her, the way you can make her cheeks blush and the skin above her chest redden. “Shut up,” she growls, handing you a cup of still slightly steaming tea from the bedside table. 

You ignore it and rest your head on her lap, looking up and grinning. “Hey, I’m not complaining, love.”

Geri rolls her eyes, but her lips curve upwards into a small, soft smile. Your heart beats a little faster and you don’t exactly know why but it’s not an unwelcome sensation. Life would be a little better for everyone if they just _went for it_ , you think, without overthinking or regrets. 

You’d talked about sexuality with her before, of course you had. There aren’t many things the two of you haven’t talked about, after all - whether as a punchline to a bad joke or during a particularly emotional divulgence. You’d known she was curious and she’d known you’d had that curiosity sated a few times. 

“Do you ever think about it, and not just in the abstract?” she’d asked once as you sat on the floor in the studio, waiting for Emma to bring back Thai food for all five of you. You’d raised your eyebrow quizzically, searching for clarification. “You know, with women.”

“Hard not to,” you’d laughed loudly. “When they’re out there looking fit as fuck. Take you, for example. If your shirt was any tighter, your nipples would be almost in my face right now.”

Weirdly (or not), you’d never really considered whether Geri might want to have it off with _you_. 

And yet here the two of you are. 

You close your eyes again, enjoying the feeling of her fingers as they skim over your skin - your cheekbone, the column of your neck, across your clavicle and then down to your breasts. She emits a happy little sigh, and for once, you’re determined to not ruin shit by running your mouth. 

“You’re so pretty,” Geri says, her palm coming to rest over your left breast. “Especially in the morning.” 

“Well, we now know that sex hasn’t cured your delusions,” you reply, putting your hand over the top of hers and locking fingers. “But thank you.”

* * *

The house is empty for the weekend and you’re glad for it. You’re half waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Geri’s brain to realise what has actually happened and abort the friendship because of the perceived complications. You’ve heard of that happening. By the time Saturday draws to a close, it’s almost surprising to you, the calmness, the way things have shifted so momentously in one way but everything is still so normal. Nobody would even _know_ , you don’t think. Geri still thinks her opinions are the only correct ones and says as much, and you still struggle to encourage her efforts when an insult comes to your lips so much more easily. 

You eat your dinner in front of the telly, some new sitcom that’s pretty rubbish but not awful enough that you can be arsed changing the channel. Geri picks at her pasta and you resist the urge to scold her, to force her. She’s distracted and you want to distract her differently, but you don’t say as much, simply let her cuddle up against your side and pull a worn, navy and white crochet blanket over both of you. 

“I think I want to talk about it now,” she says eventually, her words careful and her tone so flat you can’t quite sense how she’s feeling. Which you hate. “Last night.”

_And this morning._

Your instant reaction is one of recoiling. Sex is great, amazing, all the other words that float around your mind but that you struggle to say when the moment calls for it. Fucked up brain. But as great and amazing (and great) as it is, you prefer to simply let it happen. Geri’s often a planner, an analyst (at least when it comes to her career and even some emotional shit), and you don’t want intimacy to be planned nor do you want whatever your friendship is to be analysed. 

“Do we need to?” You can hear the whininess in your own voice, hope she doesn’t take it the wrong way. But she should know better. You’ve been the closest of friends for months now and she just _should_.

“Don’t you think we should? I mean…” She trails off and you turn slightly so you can look her in the eyes. They’re troubled and you hate that for her. 

Gently you put a hand on her forearm. “It doesn’t have to be anything but what it was, you know? A bit of fun. Figuring out what you like.”

Her nose screws up a little. “But it’s not just a question of that. I don’t want - I’m trying not to overthink things but it’s hard, I - You know what I’m like. And it’s not - I had fun, of course I did, but - ”

You sit up on the couch and grab her face in your hands; she startles when your fingertips stroke down her jaw. Fondness overwhelms you. “If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna have to kiss you again, you know. And then you’ll have even more to think about.”

Geri blinks. Then licks her lips. You don’t think she realises what she’s doing, the way she’s moved slightly closer, has leant in so that your mouths are mere inches apart. Her hands rest just above your knees and the pressure is solid and welcome. “I’ll try.” 

You’re not sure whether she means what you want her to mean, that there’s no pressure or need to talk about it and that she wants whatever this is to continue indefinitely. But that’s okay. For now, she’s staring at you intently, her eyes flitting over your face like it’s the last and only chance she has to drink you in. It won’t be.

“I’ve never met anyone I like as much as I like you.” 

“And I’ve never met anyone who was so slow to get me into bed even though I knew they wanted it from the first time we saw each other. Badly.”

Geri slaps your jean-clad leg hard, her laugh loud and warm. You’ve always loved that sound, loved even more being the cause of it. 

“Admit it, admit it, admit!” you say to her with a grin, grabbing at her shoulders and pushing her roughly down onto the couch. “Nobody else can hear you. It can be our secret.”

“Never. You have the biggest mouth in the entire world, Melanie.” Her body is soft beneath you, relaxed and receptive. 

She meets your kiss eagerly, quickly deepens it and groans when you adjust yourself on top of her, letting your thigh settle against her core. “And the best,” you tell her.

“Wha?” she asks breathily, eyes clouded in confusion. Her fingers still where they’re clutching at your crop top. “What are you talking about?”

“My mouth. It’s the best.”

“I won’t be feeding the egotistical monster inside you, darling,” Geri retorts. “Stop bragging.” 

The couch is lumpy, the cushions and blanket falling onto the floor the minute both of you move. And it’s good. More than. 

She doesn’t ask to talk afterwards, and it feels freeing, like the possibilities are endless. You’re going to become famous, you’re going to stay best friends, and you’re going to be loved. It’s _inevitable_. 

* * *

You wake up to darkness, almost silence, until you make out Geri moving about in the kitchen. She returns with mint chocolate chip ice-cream, and you eat from the tub, sharing a spoon and wearing a spare jersey of Mel’s that she’d left lying around. Mostly because your best friend (lover?) has squeezed into your crop top from earlier in the evening. 

Geri insists on holding your hand the whole time. And you like it.


End file.
